


Dragon Age Drabbles

by howbilbostolethering



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 21:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11540808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howbilbostolethering/pseuds/howbilbostolethering





	1. First Impressions

Birds sang boisterously, flitting through the canopy of leaves and sunlight. Insects serpentined through the prickly brush below, avoiding their predators from above. Nothing had changed for them. They had been doing this for thousands of years and they would continue to do so, despite the gaping wound in the sky. They were blissfully unaware and Ava envied them. 

She hadn’t asked for any of this. The mark on her hand, the title of “Andraste’s Harold,” the respect or doubt from thousands of people. All she had wanted was a single day away from her clan. The entire clan considered her insane for this foolish desire, but she clung onto it any ways. The world was such a wide, exotic place and she had only seen a fraction of it. She knew there was more than her humble forest home but she didn’t expect so much all at once. Her life had been so quiet and simple before. It was as if fate decided to end the world just as she began to discover it. Sighing, Ava tore her eyes away from the swirling hole in the sky and turned them to Haven.

It crackled with energy and whispered with anticipation. Soldiers swung swords at each other in pretend battles, clerics led hymns and homilies in the courtyard, and wanderers escaped reality in the tavern. Ava rose from her seat on the step and meandered through the camp, nodding to those who made eye contact. Cullen had jumped in on a training session, and Ava took a moment to watch him display the proper fighting technique. His sword clanged against the armor of a solider who wasn’t quick enough to block the attack. She couldn’t hear Cullen’s words, but his tone suggested sympathy towards the embarrassed solider. Nearby, Leliana stood in her tent, hunched over notes and maps, as crows and agents brought her written whispers and scribbled secrets. There was a set line of determination on the red haired spymaster and Ava thought best not to linger. Varric sat by the bonfire in the courtyard, telling another marvelous story to those sitting around him. She chuckled as she caught the tail end of a punchline. Everyone seemed to have a place here. They were willing to do whatever it took to seal the Breach. She hadn’t witnessed this kind of comradery outside her clan and it made her heart ache to know that she was still finding her place. 

Sighing, she leaned against the rough wood of a house and stared at the bustling Haven. A crinkling page notified her that she wasn’t alone. Turning, she was startled to find herself in front of Solas. He sat crossed legged and barefoot on a crate outside his house, flipping through the pages of a book. She considered leaving but he noticed her before she could. Snapping the book shut, Solas stood and nodded respectfully.

“Andaran atish’an,” he greeted. 

She nodded back to him, struggling to find words that would deem her intelligent. “Solas. How are you?”

He tossed a fleeting look to the Breach before he replied. “I am doing well, despite the circumstances.” He offered a small grin. “How is your hand?”

“It’s not killing me anymore, so it’s great,” she said, returning the smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. You have the means of sealing rifts literally in the palm of your hand and I couldn’t let that go to waste,” Solas replied. 

“You sure know how to make a lady feel special,” she said. It didn’t take much time to understand that Solas didn’t skirt around the point. “How is everyone treating you?”

“As well as they can,” he replied. “I am an apostate mage in the midst of Chantry forces.”

“Let me know if that changes,” Ava said. 

“What would you do?”

“I’m the Harold of Andraste, am I not? I’ll tell them Andraste has spoken to me and told me that mages are good people and should be considered equal, no matter their labels.”

A smirk played at Solas lips.

“I doubt they would listen to you,” he said. His expression faltered. “Do you believe that?”

“A few might listen,” she shrugged.

He waved his hand. “No, no. Do you believe mages are good people?”

“Of course. Just because a few mages make the wrong choices, doesn’t mean that they are all evil,” she said firmly. “That goes with everyone who’s alive. There will always be bad people but that doesn’t make everyone terrible.”

Solas nodded, smiling. “You are very wise, Harold of Andraste.” 

Ava bit back a laugh. She was the opposite of wise and everyone in her clan knew it. She had once encouraged a young boy to bring a bouquet of blood lotus to his mother and it turned out the mother was horrendously allergic to them. The near death experience resulted in Ava being punished for a month. It was impossible to believe that she could be wise. But here, away from her clan and surrounded by strangers, anything was possible. 

“You’re only saying that to flatter me,” she teased.

“Perhaps I am.”

She blushed, not expecting an outright flirtatious response. Solas smiled at her innocently with a dash of mischievousness lurking in the corners of his mouth. Running a hand through her hair, she attempted to return the smile.

“Perhaps,” she echoed.

The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. Her heart skipped a beat as she fumbled with her hands. She was suddenly very aware of her breathing and couldn’t concentrate. 

“I should go.”

“Of course,” he said, with a slight bow. 

Hesitantly, she retreated down the steps, wondering if Solas would call after her for more conversation. Sneaking a glance, she saw that he had returned to his book. She was both unsurprised and disappointed.


	2. Itching for Adventure

Ava laid on her bed with her feet on her pillow and her head hanging over the side of the bed. She couldn’t help replaying and analyzing the conversation between her and Solas, short as it was. There was no doubt that she sounded incredibly stupid the entire time and Solas was merely sparing her feelings by not telling her how inadequate she was. As she groaned and put her hands over her face, there was a knock at the door. It was foolish to believe it was Solas but she did. Perhaps she could redeem herself. Whoever it was didn’t wait for a response and entered the hut. Cassandra frowned at her, hanging off the floor like a bat. Ava sat up quickly, blood rushing to her head and Cassandra right side up. 

“What were you doing?” Cassandra asked, bluntly.

“I was thinking,” Ava responded, rubbing at her temples. 

Cassandra’s brow furrowed but she didn’t press further. “We’ve had news of a Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands. She could be useful for the Inquisition. I came to see if you would like to accompany us.”

Ava bolted from her bed. “Of course!”

Cassandra’s stony face softened. “Your enthusiasm is admirable.”

“It’s unavoidable,” Ava chuckled. “I’ve been in one spot for too long.” 

“How elven of you,” Cassandra noted. “We’ll be leaving shortly. Pack lightly.”

Once Cassandra left, Ava changed into her scouting coat and secured her daggers in their sheaths. She double checked her pick-locking equipment and tucked a pouch of coins in her pocket. She crossed paths with the mirror on her way to the door and she paused a moment. Her reflection looked less formidable than she hoped: a petite elf with boyish auburn hair, freckles splattered across her nose, and a scar that dug into her eyebrow and cheek. She looked more accident-prone than intimidating. The daggers strapped to her back helped slightly in looking dangerous but that wasn’t very specific to her. Anyone holding daggers made them look slightly dangerous. Running a hand through her hair, she left her reflection behind and tried to focus on the approaching adventure. 

As she joined Cassandra at the gates, she realized she had forgotten to ask who would be in their party. Obviously, Cassandra, but who would the other two be? Cullen had to train the budding soldiers, Leliana felt too vulnerable on the field, and Josephine had the nobles to attend. Her gut sank as she realized that left only two other qualified people: Varric and Solas. Running into Solas and having a chat was an easy enough situation to escape from, if Ava became too bumbling and embarrassed. Traveling with him was entirely different. She would have nowhere to hide. There was always the option to stay in Haven. But her desire to explore outweighed her concern with Solas. She had barely reached Cassandra when the other two appeared, Varric grinning broadly and Solas hinting at a smile. Seeing that tinge made Ava wonder what a genuine smile would look on him. Immediately after that thought, Ava decided that she would be the one to make that happen.

“Ready to go, boss?” Varric asked Ava.

“More than ready,” Ava said, barely containing her excitement. “And you have to come up with a better nickname than that.”

Varric chuckled deeply. “I’m on it, boss.”

Even though she had only known Varric for less than two weeks, she appreciated his familiarity. It made her feel welcome when everyone spoke about her behind hands in hushed whispers. 

“Enough chit chat, let’s get moving,” Cassandra commanded. 

“Yes, ser, Lady Seeker, ma’am,” Varric shouted, saluting Cassandra. 

Cassandra scoffed and began to lead the way to the Hinterlands. It took every ounce of willpower for Ava to remain with the group and not soar ahead, taking in every little detail there was to see.


	3. Disasterous Journies

The camp consisted a few tents, a potions table, and a requisitions table. Not wanting to be caught off guard, Ava stocked up her potions and everyone else’s, since they didn’t seem overly concerned about their own wellbeing. 

“I’m telling you, boss, I’m not gonna need these,” Varric huffed when Ava handed him regeneration potions. 

“You’ll be thanking me when you’re out of healing potions and you’re alive because of these,” she said, moving onto Solas. 

Solas took his potions graciously. “Thank you,” he murmured. 

“Of course.” She nearly added, “Anything for you,” but decided it would be embarrassingly trite and much too familiar with someone who still very much a stranger. Varric would never let her hear the end of it. She did allow her fingertips to linger a moment longer on his knuckles before turning to Cassandra with her potions. She took them with a gruff, “Thanks” but Ava could see a glimmer of deep appreciation for Ava’s thoughtfulness. Ava cheerfully grinned as she turned to face her comrades. She clapped her hands together.

“Right. Now that we are truly ready to go, let’s find Mother Giselle and see what the Hinterlands has in store for us,” she said. 

“Lead the way, boss,” Varric said. 

Ava faltered. “Pardon?”

“We’ve got the location of Mother Giselle marked on our maps, along with other good camp sites. Use those elf tracking skills of yours. Cassandra can take a break from being bossy all the time,” Varric said, shooting a sly glance to Cassandra. 

“I am not—” Cassandra began but abruptly stopped. She grunted and crossed her arms. Ava looked around at the three of them.

“Well, okay,” she said, dubious. She looked down at the map Varric had handed her. “Let’s go this way.”

Ava started down a dirt path, having an idyllic expectation to how their travels would proceed. Ava would lead them to victory without getting lost, Solas would realize his undying appreciation for her, Varric would write tales portraying her heroism and valor, and Cassandra would defend her until her dying day. Yes, it was going to be a marvelous.

To say the very least, the journey was not the glossy picture Ava had painted for herself. To say the very most, the journey was an absolute and incredible catastrophe. Not only did Ava get them terribly lost, she led them straight into bandits that loomed over them in skill and number, drew them to countless rifts with demons and terrors, and trampled into bear and wolf territory with no heed for its occupants. Not to mention the countless bloodthirsty mages and Templars they encountered. It was an understatement that the group was relieved when they made camp near Master Dennet’s land. It was peaceful and quiet here, with nothing trying to kill them and a chance to breath without worrying what would pop up next. Everyone took to their own tents, except Ava. She sat on the dirt by the fire, knees drawn to her chest, and imagining figures in the flames. Someone sat beside her on the log and she was too intrigued by her game to look up. 

“You did well today.”

The blatant lie snapped Ava’s attention from the fire. Solas sat with his elbows on his knees, also peering into the inferno. She frowned at him and hugged her knees closer to her. 

“I know you don’t agree. But I think you did well,” Solas said again.

“We didn’t even find Mother Giselle,” Ava retorted. “We went in the complete opposite direction. Recruiting her was the only reason we even came here.”

“And to set up camps. We’ve accomplished one task.”

“By accident.”

“Will you not let me compliment you?”

“No.”

Solas chortled under his breath. Ava glared at him for a moment, irritated that he was laughing at her. She rested her chin on her knees and looked back at the fire. Admittedly, Ava was glad that someone saw bravery when all she saw was cowardice. She knew she could put down every one of his statements with the truth but she didn’t want to ruin this day any more. So instead, she picked up a stick and poked the flames. Her annoyance crisped away with the wood as a few minutes of silence passed by them. It wasn’t the kind of silence that needed to be filled with words. It was filled with acknowledgement of each other and their likeness. Ava instantly had a deeper appreciation for Solas. He let the silence be when others would have rushed to speak.

The others emerged from their tents, one by one. Cassandra sat opposite to them, accompanied by Varric. Cassandra didn’t look pleased as the dwarf took a seat beside her but she said nothing. A few of their scouts joined, everyone chittering with the day’s events. They gave the two elves a wide berth, but Ava couldn’t determine whether they did so on purpose or subconsciously. Solas exchanged a brief glance with her and twitched a shrug. Not everyone was comfortable with silence or difference. 

“Do you miss your clan?” Solas asked softly. 

“Every day.” 

“Why don’t you go back?”

“Because the Inquisition needs me. I’ll go back someday.”

Solas mused. “You’re quite noble.”

Ava barked an unforgiving laugh. “And you hate the Fade,” she said sarcastically.

“You’re too close to see the truth. I’m not,” Solas replied seriously.

“And what do you see?” Ava’s chest tightened, heart beat and breath increasing. It was a dangerous question to ask, no matter the circumstances. 

“I see an elf who will put her life on the line to save those who don’t even know her and might hate her simply because she’s an elf. I see an elf who fights with passion and fury flawlessly, yet she brings light into every room she enters with ease.”

Her chest loosened then tightened again, but with joy instead. 

“Are you implying that I’m graceful?” she toyed. 

“No. I’m declaring it.”

She blushed deeply, the heat spreading to the nape of her neck. She was grateful for the oncoming night and the shadows that hid her face. 

“You’re too kind,” she blustered. 

“What are you two pointy ears muttering about over there?” Varric called from across the fire.

Solas pursed his lips but didn’t respond. Ava raked a hand through her hair and smiled nervously. With a lack of reply from either of them, Varric nodded knowingly and muttered something to Cassandra. The warrior merely rolled her eyes and shook her head. There was a brief lull in conversations as the scouts tried to catch what had happened between the four of them. Master of avoiding things, Varric began to weave their day into a story, blowing it out of proportion, and sparing Ava of any blame. Any awkward tension floated away in the smoke as Varric spoke. They all took turns interjecting what really happened or rather, what they would’ve liked to have really happen. Every so often, Solas would extend his hand to the dying embers and restore their source of heat. Fellow scouts guffawed at Varric’s rowdy tales and Cassandra made disgusted noises underneath her breath. 

As the night wore on and drinks were passed around, Ava found herself leaning against Solas’s leg. Not wanting to be a bother, she subtly titled away from him. His hand brushed the back of her neck and faintly ran along her buzzed hairline. She froze, eyeing the others to see if they noticed Solas’s quiet display of affection. They continued arguing over something that happened in Kirkwall. She then glanced up at Solas. He was watching the fire absent-mindedly, his gaze flickering to Ava every so often. He caught her eye and smirked. It wasn’t a true smile but she was getting closer to it. Settling back, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder and her heart felt full of acceptance and happiness.


End file.
